


A Spy and an Englishman

by misura



Series: Spies'R'Us [1]
Category: Chuck (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-20 13:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Bryce's first impression of Mycroft Holmes is that he is British.</i></p><p><i>At a second glance and on second thought, he amends that to </i>English<i>.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Spy and an Englishman

Bryce's first impression of Mycroft Holmes is that he is British.

At a second glance and on second thought, he amends that to _English_. (He's been informed there's a difference, mostly to do with accents and the exact moment of the day when tea is being served and how familiar one is when talking about the royal family.)

"Mr. Holmes," he says, annoyed to detect a trace of Ian MacDonald's Irish drawl - the moreso as officially, the CIA is not running any operations on British soil at the moment.

"Tea?" Holmes asks - a question Bryce has been informed does not really require an answer when one is in a meeting and it's in the afternoon.

He watches Holmes pour two cups of tea, one of which receives a gentle shove in Bryce's direction that provides it with just enough propulsion to stop moving right in front of him.

"There's sugar around here somewhere, I'm sure," Holmes says, which is as clear a cue to take his tea black as Bryce has heard.

He takes a sip. It's hot. "You have something that belongs to us."

"Biscuit?" Holmes asks, and Bryce actually takes two seconds to realize it's not a reply to his pointed reminder of why he's here. Perhaps Graham's right in telling him he needs a vacation, even if Bryce has no idea where he could go.

Bryce takes another sip of tea. Still too hot to detect any kind of taste.

"The memory stick, yes," Holmes adds. "It's here somewhere, I'm sure."

Presumably, this means it's still in the process of being copied. Bryce closes his eyes, summons the blueprints of the building - exits, air vents, security check points. He's not quite authorized to start a war, but the British have had the memory stick for close to 36 hours and there's an etiquette for this kind of thing. His official orders are not to try not to kill anyone when he retrieves the data.

"I have a plane to catch," Bryce says, because you don't sit down for a meeting with the British secret service and tell them you're going to start shooting people if they don't play nice.

"Quite." Holmes smiles, sipping his tea. "Wouldn't want you to be late, I'm sure."

Without the briefing, Bryce would have considered Holmes a typical desk job. High-up, yes, but with people to do the actual work. Inspiring, perhaps - good at managing resources (people) and time (money) but not particularly dangerous.

"So," Holmes says, putting his cup down as if it's empty. "How are you enjoying your visit to London?"

Making small talk is an acceptable stalling technique, and Bryce has read several travel-guides describing all the sights one could wish to see in the city. He rattles off a few descriptions straight from the _'London for Dummies'_ guide and Holmes politely pretends he doesn't notice Bryce isn't actually talking about anything he's seen for himself.


End file.
